


This Moment

by DancingDragon42



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: Excessive inclusion of song lyrics, F/M, Love Triangles, Non-Graphic Violence, Questionable Choices, Secret Relationship, probable anachronisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-22
Updated: 2007-08-22
Packaged: 2018-05-13 13:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingDragon42/pseuds/DancingDragon42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if one moment in time changed? Could it change everything? A slip in Raoul's plan begins a spiraling confluence of events that cause Christine to re-evaluate her choices</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Planning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm now (2016) moving this over from FF.net in my quest to have everything in the same place. The remainder of notes will be the original ones from when they were first posted because I think they offer a funny window into when I was writing just for myself and a few friends. Please excuse excessive disclaimers and a few references to comments that will not exist on this version.

Raoul was in a predicament, his dear Little Lotte was being threatened by a terrible ghost, and it seemed that there was nothing to be done. This ghost, the Phantom of the Opera, seemed invincible and impossible to track, but something had to be done before he hurt dear Christine. Climbing into his carriage, Raoul decided to take the long way to the theatre, hoping to come up with some type of plan on the way there.

He guided his team of two giant grey percherons absent mindedly, lost in his planning. All the events of the past 6 months ran through his head, yet nothing seemed to offer a solution. The Phantoms weakness was an obvious one, Christine. But how to use it without endangering her in the process?

As he went over this in his mind, the road began to turn from wooded countryside into city outskirts. Raoul continued to guide his team without really paying attention to where he was going. He knew the way to L'Opéra Populaire by heart. He entered La Place De L'Opéra and began to steer towards the stables, still lost in thought without a solution in sight. Suddenly his horses reared without warning, neighing loudly and breaking his train of thought. It was only then that he realized he had nearly ran into a large mail carriage that was parked directly in front of the entrance. The driver began to shout, cursing in multiple languages, some that Raoul could not recognize. The driver had dark skin, and appeared to be from some more eastern nation, but was nonetheless was wearing a deep red royal post uniform. It reminded him of something, something the Phantom had once worn…..

Suddenly it struck him, it had been so obvious! How could he have possibly missed it? The Phantom's opera, the one he had presented at the Bal Masque, that was his answer. There was little that the Phantom could get away with while Christine was on stage, but her performance would certainly draw him to attend. He climbed quickly from his carriage to rush inside, thanking a very confused postman for reminding him of something.

His sudden realization seemed to have drained him of common sense for the time being, for he left his carriage where it stood, in the middle of La Place De L'Opéra. Walking briskly towards the entrance, Raoul handed the hostler 50 francs. The hostler called after him, inquiring as to why the man had paid him 30 extra francs to take care of a horse that did not seem to exist.


	2. Foiled From Above

Raoul found the managers watching a rehearsal of Die Zauberflöte which was to be the next production. He resisted the urge to cover his ears as Carlotta began an attempt at The Queen of the Night, and made his way toward the front of the theatre.

"Gentlemen!" he called, "I have an idea."

"What ever is it?" called Firmin.

"It had better be important, to have interrupted my rehearsal," said Mme. Giry, said, more to herself and the ballet girls than anyone else. Carlotta was much more vocal of her opinions. (When is she not?)

"Yes, M. De Chagny do share dis brilliant idea of yours with us," she snapped.

"Shall we take a walk, gentlemen?" said Raoul, "I would be glad to explain myself."

High above in the rafters, the Phantom watched, a smirk slowly creeping across his face. "The young Viscount thinks he can out-smart me, how charming his false confidence is." He thought to himself, "Raoul's plan has already failed, for I will hear it." With that, he began to follow the managers and Raoul from above.

Below, Raoul and the managers had begun to walk through the backstage area of the theatre, followed by nearly the entire company. Raoul began his explanation. "We have all been blind, and yet the answer is staring us in the face!"

"We're listening! Go on." Said the managers together

Raoul began with confidence, "We, shall play his game, perform his work but remember we hold the ace! For if Miss Daaé sings, he is certain to attend"

Suddenly the whole crowd seemed to understand. "We are certain the doors are barred! We are certain the police are there! We are certain they are armed! The curtain falls! His reign will end!"

Above, the Phantom had to try hard not to laugh, for he would not be making an appearance in the manner they were expecting.


	3. No Return

The next day rehearsals for Die Zauberflöte were put on hold and rehearsals for Don Juan Triumphant began. The staff and cast all seemed to be in a constant rushed state. Generally, there were 6 weeks between performances in which to rehearse and make sets, but one week had already been lost to rehearsals of Die Zauberflöte.

To Christine it all seemed so strange, her angel's music, now being used to trap him. At first, it seemed the right thing to do, but the music soon changed her. As she heard his songs played in rehearsals, she felt his soul pouring over her. While the rest of the cast criticized its strangeness, she reveled in his unique writing. She couldn't betray him, not after what he had done for her. But what of Raoul? There was no way she could change his mind and convince him to let her dear angel be. She still loved Raoul, didn't she?

xxx

Don Juan opened to a full house, though not to anyone's surprise. The idea of the Phantom's opera was simply too intriguing for anyone with enough money for a ticket to pass up. Yet, when the curtain opened and the chorus began, the crowd gasped and began to whisper suspiciously amongst themselves.

Raoul was seated in the Phantom's box, hoping that would give him the chance to  _personally_  rid the world and his love of this horrid apparition. The day before he had gone and bought a hand gun. The phantom may be stronger with a sword, but he would be no match for a gun.

Backstage Christine was fighting to breathe. She told herself a million times over that her corset had been tied too tight, but secretly knew that was not the reason. The same question came back to her, "Was Raoul worth betraying her angel?" or perhaps it was the other way around. No, she could not think like that, she and Raoul were  _engaged_ , did that mean nothing to her? A secret voice betrayed her, nearly silent, but there inside her just the same.  _It does not mean anything._  NO! She tried to shout down the voice once more, but her internal quarrels were interrupted when she heard the dialogue that signaled her entrance. Inwardly she cursed it all, she had yet to make her decision!

She stepped out on the stage, graceful but hesitant. She sat on the stage with her basket of roses as rehearsed, still trying to sort herself out. Lefevre began waving his arms about, gesturing to her for some reason. Of course! Lost in her thoughts she had forgotten to give her line.  _No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy. No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love._ She began to search the audience for her beloved angel, but found Raoul and an armed soldier in box five.

_Passerino, go away for the trap is set, and waits for its prey._ Christine looked back to where Piangi was to have entered, but did not find Piangi. No, it was her angel, she knew it, his voice revealed him to her. _  
_  
_You have come here,_  
in pursuit of  
your deepest urge,  
In pursuit of that wish,  
which till now  
Has been silent,  
silent . . .

He brought his finger to his lips knowing that Christine by now must have figured that he had made a switch.

_I have brought you,_  
that our passions may fuse and merge –  
In your mind you've already succumbed to me,  
Dropped all defenses,  
completely succumbed to me –

It was brilliant, no one would expect him on the stage, and they would have a hard time identifying him with the black mask and large black cape as anyone other than Piangi.

_Now you are here with me:_  
no second thoughts,  
You've decided,  
decided . . .

Now the decision seemed so clear to her. Listening to his voice, she wanted nothing more than to be with him. She still knew that she was fond of Raoul, but this was different, very different. She stood and met his eyes, filled with passion.

_Past the point of no return -_  
no backward glances:  
the games we've played till now are at an end . . .  
Past all thought  
of "if" or "when" -  
no use resisting:  
abandon thought, and let the dream descend . . .

He walked towards her as is every step had its purpose, their eyes still locked.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_  
What rich desire unlocks its door?  
What sweet seduction lies before us . . .?

He reached for her hand pulling her arm straight and planting a kiss softly on her finger. Still his eyes never left hers.

_Past the point of no return,_  
the final threshold -  
what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?  
Beyond the point of no return . . .

As his voice faded she finally tore her eyes away and looked out to the audience, to Raoul.

_You have brought me_  
to that moment where words run dry,  
to that moment  
where speech disappears  
into silence,  
silence . . .  
I have come here,  
hardly knowing the reason why . . .  
In my mind,  
I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenseless and silent -  
and now I am here with you:  
no second thoughts,  
I've decided,  
decided . . .

And decided she had. With a whole new passion flooding her voice she and her angel both turned to climb the stairs.

_Past the point of no return -_  
no going back now:  
our passion-play has now, at last, begun . . .  
Past all thought of right or wrong -  
one final question:  
how long should we two wait, before we're one . . .?

_When will the blood_  
begin to race  
the sleeping bud  
burst into bloom?  
When will the flames,  
at last, consume  
us . . .?

They had reached the top now, where their two staircases met to form one platform. Their eyes were locked once again. He could feel now that she had decided not to betray him, he could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. Did he dare believe she loved him more than Raoul? He cast off his cape now, revealing the obvious fact that the muscular figure beneath it was not Piangi. It was too late now though, and the whole audience held its breath as they both began to sing now, their voices blending and entwining, filling the theatre

_Past the point  
of no return_

They both walked deliberately towards one another, sparks in their eyes,

_the final threshold -  
the bridge is crossed,_

_so stand and watch it burn . ._

Reaching out, Christine placed her hands on his waist, but he spun her around and pressed her back firmly up against him. Suddenly she felt so safe, as if she never wished to leave him again.  __  
We've passed the point  
of no return . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wait, aren't they standing on the bridge? Isj. Sorry, but I had too


	4. Aim

Raoul was hardly watching the performance. His eyes searched every possible spot in the theatre that the Phantom might be hiding, but could not find any trace of him. Not caught a glimpse of a mask nor seen the flick of a cape in the shadows. Had the Phantom heard his plans?

The singing stopped, and Raoul turned to the stage, drawing himself from his search. He had not realized until then how silent the audience had become. Their whisperings of dislike had now turned to breathless silence. Onstage, atop the large platform, Christine was standing in Piangi's arms. Raoul did not remember that as what they had rehearsed. Wait! That was not Piangi, this man was much too thin! Suddenly, he realized why the rest of the audience held its breath. The man onstage was The Phantom of the Opera!

Raoul quickly withdrew his pistol from his pocket and took aim. This phantom would become a true ghost now. Squinting one eye closed to take better aim, he gently pulled the trigger back…

* * *

 

Onstage, Christine continued to enjoy the warmth of the Phantom's embrace. She could feel her doubt in her decision being pushed from her mind by his love. She waited in silence for the offstage line that was to signal them to "hide," fearing the though of losing his touch. It never came, the music stopped, and she was aware of the total silence of the room. Why had Charles not given his line? Why had the orchestra stopped playing? Carefully, as if afraid to break the silence, she turned within her angel's arms to face him, to ask him what was going on. But she would never know, for the instant she turned around she heard a sound, as if thunder had split the building. In that same instant she hoped that whoever had fired had missed their mark. Then she felt it, a horrid, searing pain in her arm. She cried out. They had missed their mark alright, they had hit her!

At the sound of her cry the Phantom clutched her tighter, instantly understanding what had happened. "Fools!" he cried, "See what you have done!" He looked down at his dear angel, his only reason for living, he could not lose her! Looking at her face, he saw that her brilliant blue eyes were now clouded with tears, and filled with pain. She let out another cry, then bit her lip to try to distract her from the pain. The Phantom could feel her fingers curling and her nails digging into his back as she fought back the pain. He knew there was nothing he himself could do for her; someone here would find her a real doctor to tend to her wound. However, he could not stay much longer. As much as he wanted to stay beside his angel, the Phantom knew he had to leave her.

Repositioning his arms so that he could lift her without causing her much greater pain, the Phantom carried Christine off to the side of the platform. Before setting her down, the Phantom carefully placed a soft kiss on Christine's brow, which was now covered in sweat from the pain. With that, she went limp in his arms and terror flooded his mind. Could she be dead? No! That could not be!

A soft breath on his face was his redemption. She had passed out, he should not have been surprised, she had obviously been in a lot of pain. He set her down gently then moved back over where he had secretly built a trapdoor into the platform one night. He had not realized until then what a miracle it was no one had attacked him. No one had shot because he was so close to Christine, but he had now lost that protection. What truly surprised him was that no one had come to attack him face to face. Perhaps they were frightened, or too far away, but I would not be long before someone crossed the distance or gained some spark of courage. Stealing one last look at Christine, he kicked a lever, and fell quickly into the darkness below.


	5. Monks and Scantily Clad Women

Leon Chienoir was at the end of an overly long day. At the slow rate Laïla was taking, it seemed he would never get home. His wife had told him a million times to get rid of his old horse, but Leon could not seem to part with Laïla. Twelve years ago, on the day his daughter was born, Leon's father had given him and his wife Laila as a congratulatory present. Leon's father had since passed away; the only part left of him was Laïla.

Approaching his house, he saw a light in the kitchen, and instantly knew he was in trouble. His wife hated it when he was late, but this time he had an explanation. The only problem was if he told the truth, she might never believe him.

"Where on earth have you been!" shouted his wife Nicole as he opened the door.

"At work," he replied calmly.

"At work!" she repeated his words as if they were ludicrous fantasies, "You got off work nearly two hours ago! Even Laïla doesn't walk  _that_  slowly!"

"Work ran late, it's actually quite an interesting story."

"Oh, _do_ tell M. Overtime" She replied sarcastically.

Ignoring his wife's sarcasm, Leon began to tell his story. "It must have been less than fifteen minutes before my shift was too end. I was sitting at my desk, looking over paperwork, and everything was quiet. I was just waiting for my shift to be over; nothing was going on except nurses checking in on patients. All of a sudden, the Viscount de Chagny came bursting through the front doors, carrying a scantily clad woman! He wa-"

"Now I  _know_  you are lying!" interrupted Nicole.

"I am not," he said, "just let me continue."

"Fine."

Leon once again attempted his story. "As I was about to say, the Viscount was in hysterics. The woman in his arm had a deep gunshot wound in her right shoulder, and appeared to have passed out from blood loss or perhaps the pain. The Viscount could hardly form coherent sentences, so I sent him to sit in the waiting room, while I took the young woman into surgery. Now I really must remark on how truly ridiculous her clothing was, she was hardly covered! (This is 1870 here people) The dress didn't cover her shoulders. The skirt was merely strips of material. She didn't have stockings on. Hell, she wasn't even wearing shoes. It looked like some sort of costume…"

"You don't think she was, you know, hired help…" Nicole interrupted again. She never could quite keep her mouth shut, and she knew it. She loved to put in her two cents.

"I wasn't really sure what to think, and I wasn't about to ask the Viscount who he had been sleeping with!" Nicole giggled, enjoying this rare piece of city gossip, and Leon continued. "It was an easy fix; I removed the bullet and stitched up her wound, then had a nurse take her to the recovery ward so she could be observed for signs of lead poisoning. When I went back room to check on the Viscount, I was met with quite a sight. Nearly half the cast of L'Opéra Populaire was sitting in my waiting room!"

"No, really?" Nicole said with astonishment. "Although that would explain the costume," she contemplated aloud.

"Well of course I had to find out what on earth was going on. The opera may explain the costume, but who would have shot and opera performer, and why?"

"Maybe it was that Phantom thing all those opera fold talk of," she said casually. She had meant it as a joke; she was not expecting to be right.

"As a matter of fact, I learned from the Viscount that Le Phantôm de l'Opéra was indeed involved, but he did not shoot her."

"Well then, who ever did!"

"The Viscount himself."

Nicole looked terribly startled at this, whatever could have this woman done that the Viscount had shot her at the opera house?

"He claimed it was an accident," Leon continued. "You see the woman was playing a lead part in tonight's opera, and the woman was his fiancée, Mlle. Christine Daaé."

"We'll that's hardly an explanation! Why would he shoot his fiancée?"

"As I said it had to do with the Phantom. The Viscount said that the Phantom was after his Mlle. Daaé, and that the shot was meant for the Phantom. However, Mlle Daaé moved at the critical moment, and was hit instead. The Phantom got away and half the cast ended up in my waiting room. Talk about plans gone wrong"

"Seriously," said Nicole "What did you do then?"

"The same thing I would have done for anyone else, I sent them home. Mlle. Daaé deserves rest, no matter how famous she is. The Viscount looked a mess anyhow; I thought it was best he went home to sleep in his own bed. By then M. Blanchat had checked in for the next shift, and I had all the answers I thought I could get, so I started home to you, my love" With that, they both headed to bed. After thirty years of marriage they could sense that all the questions between them could be answered had been. Nicole knew for sure now that her husband had been telling the truth, she had heard it in his voice throughout the whole story.

* * *

 

The next day, the secretary at the Paris hospital was in for a long day as well. The first oddity of her morning was a visit from a monk. He wore a large burlap cloak, with a large hood that concealed most of his face in shadow. He had handed her a slip of paper, on which he had written in a messy scrawl:  _I am under a vow of silence as a monk. I have come to pray for Mlle. Daaé. Could you please direct me to where she is staying?_ She had pointed him to room 122 and he left her to ponder why the monk had wanted to come to the hospital to pray? Perhaps he had a message for her. Maybe, she was a childhood friend and he simply wished to see her.

"Excuse me." Her thoughts were interrupted by a stern woman standing in front of her desk. At the woman's side was a girl. No, her face was that of a girl, but her body said otherwise, she must have been nearly eighteen. This young woman was in a ballet costume, but wearing normal shoes. Both appeared flustered and as if they had hurried to arrive. "We wish to visit Mlle. Daaé," said the woman firmly. The secretary once again pointed to room 122, wondering who Mlle. Daaé was, to attract such bizarre company.

Next was an entire gaggle of girls in ballet costumes, some of whom did not seem to have bothered to change shoes. She once again pointed to room 122, and returned to her thoughts. Was Mlle. Daaé some sort of dancer? She was interrupted once again, this time by two men, both with extremely overdone clothes and hair, looking for Mlle. Daaé, of course. At this point, she felt compelled to make a sign so she did not have to continue to answer the same question. Getting a piece of paper, she wrote  _Mlle. Daaé Room 122._  She folded the top of the paper at the top to make small flap. Placing the paper on the front of her desk so that the flap would come over the top of her desk, she placed a paperweight on the flap to hold her makeshift sign in place.

(A/N: About half way through my sign idea, I realize that this pre-dates scotch tape, so I hope you understand how she made the sign, it was hard to explain)

Suddenly the front doors burst open, admitting a rather flustered Viscount de Chagny. His face was red, and he had bags under his eyes, as if he had slept little. When he came closer, she could see that he had been crying. What could have possibly reduced this man to such a horrid state?

"I am looking for Mlle. Daaé," he declared. The secretary sighed, and pointed to the sign. He left hurriedly, and she wondered just how many more times she would hear Mlle. Daaé's name today.

* * *

 

Christine opened her eyes slowly, not really knowing where she was. Then it came rushing back to her, she felt the pain in her arm. She must be at a hospital. Rolling to her left, she was greeted with a strange sight. Next to her bed, a monk was kneeling on the floor, his hood up over his head so she could not see his face. Carefully, as if the very air might shatter with his movement, he reached up and placed his hand under her chin, gently rubbing her cheek with his thumb. This was very strange indeed. He pulled his hand away, reaching up with both hands now to move his hood just slightly back so she could see his face. Then it was all so clear.

"My dear angel" She could barely manage a whisper, she mouth was dry and she felt terribly weak. Clearing her throat she tried to speak again, her voice was still barely audible. "Please, help me sit up, and hand me that water."

Reaching behind her shoulders, he gently held her up so he could move her pillows so she could sit. She scooted back and leaned against the pillows with a sigh. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, holding the glass of water out so she could take it. She leaned forward to try to take it with her right arm, let out a gasp of pain and fell back on to her pillows fighting the sudden pain for breath.

A concerned look crossed the Phantom's face, and he inwardly cursed Raoul for causing his angel such pain. "My dear," he whispered, a faint sob in his voice, "You mustn't try to use that arm. The bullet has no doubt damaged he muscle; it will be sore and weak for many months."

She reached for the glass again, this time with her other hand. Taking it, she drank nearly the whole glass, enjoying the feel of the cool water dripping down her parched throat. She handed the glass back to him with a feeble smile and he placed it on the small table beside the bed.

"Let me see you." She was still whispering, but this time by choice. He cocked his head, confused. Reaching to his face, she placed her hand on the masked side of his face; let it rest there just briefly, before pulling the mass from his face and placing it on the bed beside her. He was startled and worried for a moment, but she wiped those thoughts from his mind as she smiled and gently ran her fingers over his face. His  _entire_  face. Oh how wonderful it felt for her to see him as he truly was and not shy away. Still, he could hardly believe she could ever love him, truly love him as he was. Cautiously, she guided his head with her hand so his face was barely an inch from hers. Putting her one good arm around his back, she slid her hand up onto his shoulder and looked up at him pleadingly.

He knew what she wanted, but could hardly believe it. Could she have really chosen him over her dear Viscount? Daring to believe he was that lucky, the Phantom propped himself up on one elbow and slid his hand up on to her neck. He kissed her ever so softly, and then pulled back cautiously, studying her face. Her eyes were filled with longing, and his heart began to soar. She had chosen him, it seemed impossible, but he knew it was true now. He gently lowered his weight on top on her, sliding the arm he had been propped up on around her back. He kissed her again, pulling her close in a warm embrace. She kissed him back and all things were forgotten, her arm, the mask, and all the questions she had, faded away. The hood of his cloak fell down around their faces, tickling her and shrouding them in darkness.

Footsteps beyond the curtain surrounding her bed startled them from their embrace. The Phantom sprung from the bed and was instantly kneeling on the floor with his hood once again completely over his head. Just as the curtain was pulled to the side, Christine thought to hide his mask under the covers.

Christine's eyes lit when she saw who her guests where, despite being interrupted while she was enjoying herself so. "Meg, Mme. Giry!" She exclaimed excitedly.

Meg smiled at seeing her that her friend was recovering so well, then looked down. "A monk?" She asked.

"Yes," said Mme. Giry, "What is he doing here?"

"He's uhhh…" Christine wasn't sure how to explain, or if she should reveal his identity to them, "here to pray for my recovery."

"That's umm…" Mme. Giry began.

"Oh shut up and close the curtain, you old bat." Ordered the Phantom, unable to take it any longer. He pulled his hood back once more giving Mme. Giry a sly smile. Mme Giry and Meg both covered their mouths in surprise, and Mme. Giry moved to close the curtain.

"Erik," Mme. Giry began to scold him for coming and his foolishness and such, but Christine was no longer paying attention. Erik. How fitting it seemed now that she should know his name. She knew she could not go on calling him Phantom for the rest of her life if he was to be her lover, perhaps her husband. Thoughts flooded her mind. It would be so wonderful, to spend the rest of her life with him. Mme. Giry had stopped scolding now, but she turned to Erik once again.

"Where is your mask Erik?"

"I have it Madame," said Christine quietly

"Why?" Inquired Mme. Giry, a suspicious look on her face.

"I took it off," replied Christine, hoping that would be enough, because she herself was not quite sure why she had removed it. Unfortunately, Mme. Giry was still staring at her, awaiting a more complete answer. Mme. Giry knew he did not like to have his mask off.

"Well," she said coyly, "he is much easier to kiss without it." Erik blushed bright red, something none of them had ever seen him do before. For a moment, Christine almost did not regret her remark for a chance to see more of this man, Erik, instead of her mysterious angel. Then she looked at the others and her regret came flooding back. Mme Giry instantly began to scold her now, telling her that she was engaged and blah, blah, blah. That would soon change.

Meg on the other hand had been in a state of stunned silence the entire visit. She had come here to offer Christine some comfort, but instead they had found her with the Phantom of the Opera. She had been so stunned at seeing him without his mask she could not say anything. For some reason, she had never thought he might wear a mask because he was somehow deformed. It was astonishing to realize that he was not simply some deranged lunatic who wore a mask to frighten people, and now Christine was kissing him and claiming she did not love Raoul. It was too much for her to handle.

At that moment, everyone had to stop because the sound of giggling girls and clinking pointe shoes could be heard beyond the curtain. Erik resumed his position of "prayer" and Mme. Giry pulled back the curtain to greet the girls while Meg attempted to look normal.

"Christine!" The girls all squealed, then launched into excited conversation, interrupting one another, each one trying to talk louder than the others in order to be heard. (Some of my dance girls may recognize this annoying behavior from when anyone older is in the vicinity, and for those of you who don't it is  _annoying_ )

"Ladies!" hollered Mme. Giry, "One at a time please, my ears can't handle this!"

"Is that a monk?" inquired Charlotte.

"Yea it is," said Félicie "What's a monk doing here?"

"He's here to pray for Christine's recovery" said Mme. Giry and Meg together.

"Oooohhh," said the ballet girls in unison. They then proceeded to talk over one another once again. Christine could hardly make anything out through all the shouting, so she merely sat there smiling.

"Ahem" Andre and Firmin were now standing at the back of the group, trying to get some attention.

"Andre, Firmin how nice of you to come!" said Christine, welcoming the break in the noise.

"Yes," said Firmin, "and how nice to see that you are all here, Mme. Giry, Girls, Monk…."

"Whatever is a monk doing here?" asked Andre.

"He's here to pray for Christine's recovery" declared the ballet girls and Mme. Giry in unison. Andre and Firmin looked at one another and the ballet girls once again began chattering. The managers would never get to talk to Christine though, because Raoul walked in.

"Good morning Christine, Andre, Firmin, Mme. Giry, Girls, Monk" he said, "Wait one moment, why is there a monk here?"

"He's here to pray for Christine's recovery" The rest of the room chorused. Erik was having a hard time keeping back fits of laughter, but he could not move.

"Ladies, Gentlemen," said Raoul, "If you wouldn't mind, I would like a moment alone with Mlle. Daaé"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a long one, I was actually planning to write more to that chapter, but it was so long and it's getting close to the school year and I wanted to get something up. If I continued on this chapter, I might not finish for two weeks with school starting.
> 
> I hope you don't mind the point of view switch for the beginning of the chapter; I just wanted to do something different.
> 
> Sunny: get over the pairing, almost everyone agrees that Erik is much hotter and deserves Christine more  
> Kagome1514: Thanks for the French correction; I fixed it because I am obsessed with French


	6. Formality

When everyone had left the room, Raoul sat down on Christine's bed, resting his hand on her leg beneath the covers. Christine carefully reached out and placed his hand back in his lap. She knew what she had to do now, but she could not bare to see him so sad.

Raoul looked ruefully from his hands to her down turned face. "Christine, I am sorry, you must know that I had no intention of shooting you."

"Oh Raoul," Christine was nearly to tears now but she forced herself to look at his face. If she was going to do this to him, it would be respectful. "Please do not apologize anymore, for I have wronged you terribly." He opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong, but she shushed him. "I have led you on, I did not mean to, but I have." She painstakingly removed the ring from her left ring finger, her injured arm did not want to move, but she managed it. "I cannot marry you Raoul; I am in love with another. You probably know who I mean…" She placed the ring in Raoul's open palm and closed his fingers around it. The pained look that crossed Raoul's face as she did this was too much for her, and she lapsed into silent sobs, tears running down her cheeks.

He reached out to touch her cheek, to comfort her, tell her that she was merely confused and she would in time remember that she love him, not that monster, but she turned away

"No, please," she sobbed, "please don't make this any harder than it is."

"What has this monster done, what has he threatened you with to make you do this?" Raoul asked absurdly.

"Nothing!" she said, her voice now taking on a defensive tone. How dare he call her angel a monster! "Erik would never threaten me!"

"Then why?" He was near tears now too. "I thought you loved me."

"I did, but I was confused. You see you have always been my beloved childhood friend, and when you showed up at the opera house, I was confused, mistook that fondness for true love. Please do not cry like that, it hurts me so…" tears were now running freely down her cheeks. "You will find another Raoul," her voice began to fill with mounting confidence now, "but Erik needs me, I need him. I was below you anyhow, your family would have never approved. Now I am asking you Raoul, and you will respect my wishes as a lady, please do not court me any longer. In time, when your wounds heal, perhaps we can be friends again, but for now, goodbye."

Her words hit him hard, and at first he didn't speak because he was too shocked but slowly he began to realize, she was right, she was beneath him and though he hadn't cared, but his family would never permit it. They would forbid it or perhaps disown him. There was nothing he could say, as a gentlemen he was bound to respect her wishes, and he left without a word, whispering a sad goodbye only when he was out of the room, never noticing the monk still standing by the open door.

* * *

 

Erik could hardly believe his ears, she was truly refusing Raoul, she had given him back his ring. It was all an impossible dream for him. Oh how he hated Raoul for causing his angel such pain, but then how warm he felt at hearing her defend him, to hear her speak his name for the first time! She needed him, she had said it herself, and he could hardly wait to go be there for her. However, when Raoul left he had to take a brief moment to collect himself and come down from cloud nine so he could comfort her.

When he stepped into the room she was wiping tears from her cheek. But she brightened when she saw him.

"You're still here" she said with a smile as he pulled the curtains and once again pushed back his hood.

"Why of course," he said just daring to be playful given her mood, "you still have my mask my dear." He sat down on the bed. She smiled and withdrew his mask from under the covers. He took it from her but did not put it on. Looking down at it he began to tease her again "Whatever am I going to do with you? 'Easier to kiss without it?' Indeed, you must be the silliest girl on earth."

"I'm sorry" she began, teasing too now "did I embarrass you _terribly_  Erik?" she giggled, fully enjoying the human side of him she was seeing of him today, all these emotions she did not realize her angel felt.

"Say it again" he said, in a half whisper. When she said nothing he repeated, "My name, please say it again."

"Erik" her voice was barely above a whisper, he closed his eyes and felt it wash over him. It was only his name, but he heard it so rarely in his life, almost everyone having given him some nickname of sorts, since he would not tell them his name. It was something he kept to himself, he often felt as if someone was spilling a great secret of his when the few people who knew his name used it, terribly exposed. This was different, because her knowing one of his weaknesses, his secrets, was a greater bond between them. "Erik." She whispered once more, and he could not hold back the feeling, too much love for him to handle it alone. He swept her up in his arms kissing her, letting his love flow with each kiss.


	7. Gossip

Christine's remaining two days at the hospital passed slowly. Erik was unable to visit because the appearance of a monk every day would be even more suspicious than it was the first day, but he did send a rose with Mme Giry and Meg both days. No one else came in to visit her, so she had to content herself with thinking of Erik, dreaming of seeing him again, turning over his name in her mind, getting used to the feel of it. Meg's brief visits were her relief from the monotony of it all. They were already preparing to put on Die Zauberflöte, and things were going well, having already practiced for a week before they had begun on Don Juan Triumphant. Unfortunately, Carlotta's singing had yet to improve. One day, after she had sung Queen of the Night, the stage manager had found a broken window. Christine enjoyed hearing news of the opera house from Meg, but it generally made her feel even lonelier after Meg was gone. Christine knew it would be a few weeks after her return before she could dance properly again. Despite Erik's warning and the nurse's scolding, Christine was already trying hard to make use of her injured arm. The sooner she could lift her arm, the sooner she could dance. All this sitting around was beginning to make Christine reckless. Used to practicing at least four hard hours a day, her muscles groaned from lack of use.

When the doctor finally declared that she definitely did not have lead poisoning and signed the discharge papers, Christine nearly leaped from her bed. Her arm may have been nearly useless, but the rest of her body was just fine. A nurse put her arm in a sling and then tied it to her chest, telling her to wear the sling for as long as the arm gave her trouble. Christine knew before the nurse instructed her that she would not be wearing the sling for long, it was much too limiting. Meg and Mme. Giry met her to walk back to the opera house. Meg seemed quite happy, smiling and chattering for the entire walk. Mme. Giry was quite the opposite, stern-faced and silent the entire walk. Christine was a bit disappointed Erik had not sent a rose, but perhaps he was planning to meet her later when she arrived back at the opera house. The thought of time spent with Erik warmed her heart and she joined Meg in her broad smiling and chattering.

As they walked up the steps and through the doors of the opera house, Mme. Giry finally opened her mouth. "Girls, we have a rehearsal in fifteen minutes, Christine, I expect you to at least watch and try to learn the steps. Do not dawdle!" With that, she turned and stalked quickly away from them.

Meg and Christine exchanged confused looks before Meg attempted an explanation "She's been acting a bit strange lately, ever since we visited you that first day." The truth was though; neither of them really knew why she was behaving so oddly. They climbed the stairs to the dorms in silence. Once upstairs, Christine went to her dresser and immediately began to take out her practice clothes. This made her smile, dancing was always relaxing for her, even though she might not get a chance to actually dance, putting on her practice clothes reminded her of it.

After some time struggling with her sling, Christine and Meg were both dressed and they headed down to the ballet room. Most of the girls were already there and they greeted Christine excitedly, with many questions, perhaps a bit too excitedly. There was something strange about their manner, as if their excitement was only to cover something else up. Christine looked over at Meg, who in turn looked back, trying to smile, but looking nervous. They both sat on the floor, and Christine began to slowly stretch out her stiff muscles. For five minutes she was distracted by the task of limbering up the muscles she had been lying on for the past 4 days, but then she looked up to find nearly 25 pairs of eyes staring at her. There was something going on, and Meg wasn't telling her.

"Meg," she whispered, leaning close to her friend's ear, "What's going on that you aren't telling me?"

"Well it's, err, it's uh…" Meg began, then tried to cover her tracks, "It's nothing Christine, just silly girls talking"

"Meg they were all staring at me, there is something going on, tell me."

Meg sighed, she knew she would have to tell Christine what people were saying about her, but it was hard, and she wasn't sure she wanted to tell her here. It was not pleasant talk and such things were awkward for Meg to discuss; besides, she feared how Christine would react, since they both knew everyone was wrong. "Christine I promise you as a sister, I will tell you later when we are alone, I…" Fortunately for her, Meg never had to explain herself because at that exact minute Mme. Giry walked in and called the girls attention. It was time for rehearsal to begin.

It had been nearly six weeks since Christine had last practiced the steps to Die Zauberflöte, and it was much harder to draw them from muscle memory because she could not use her arms. At first she tried just using her left arm but she found that even the strap holding the sling to her chest could not keep it from bouncing around, so she had to hold her arm in place with the other one. Many of the steps were also hard to balance without her arms, so for the most part she had to mark it. Finally, between her not knowing what she was doing and marking it Mme. Giry decided that she was simply getting in the way, and told her to sit down. Christine wanted to argue, but knew better considering the ballet mistress' current mood. She sat down, pouting and attempting to learn the steps from watching.

After practice, they had two hours to themselves. When they got closer to the performance some if not all of that time would be spent onstage with the rest of the cast, but for now, it was free time before supper. Most of the girls headed to the dormitory, but Meg and Christine snuck upstairs to a supply room where they could talk without others disturbing them.

Once they were seated, both of them on large wooden boxes Meg began. "Are you sure you want to hear this Christine, it's only talk, it means nothing, how ever wrong it may be." Christine nodded, if people were going to look down on her and act strange, she wanted to know why. Meg continued "Well you see, Christine, now everyone knows that you and Raoul broke off the engagement, but no one knows why, no one knows who's idea it was…." She trailed off, but Christine urged her on. Not in the mood for circumlocution Meg blurted, "They all think you've been having an affair and Raoul left you because of it!" Christine sighed, no one would have guessed the truth, to everyone else there seemed no reason for her to have broken it off.

"But you know that's not true!" Christine said at last, hoping to find someone on her side.

"No," said Meg, "I don't, or at least I didn't, I mean, I believe you if you say it isn't"

"Well, it isn't!" replied Christine a bit defensively. She had broken it off with him and she had certainly not slept with anyone! "Did Raoul tell them this? If he is the one who is spreading these lies, oh I cannot tell you…!" She trailed off angrily

"No, Christine, I do not think he would have done that to you. He did not say who broke it off or why, only that it was off. These rumors are the work of someone else, perhaps only a speculation that got out of control."

Christine had calmed down a bit now; she was glad Raoul had not betrayed her. "Well, at least I can tell you the truth. Perhaps I can get Raoul to make a more specific announcement and put an end to this."


	8. The Rose

It had been nearly a week and a half now since Christine had returned from the hospital. Her arm was quickly getting better. She had now removed the sling, and although she did not have full use of it, she could now dance with all other parts of her body, and was doing a much better at keeping up. One thing still troubled her. She had yet to hear from Erik. What could possibly be keeping him from her?

That day after practice, Christine slipped away from the crowd heading up to the dormitory. It had been difficult to give Meg the slip, and she finally had to tell her that she was going to the bathroom in order to convince Meg to leave her be. Once rid of Meg, Christine quietly slipped into her dressing room.

The air inside was terribly still, there must have been poor ventilation to the room. Reluctantly Christine pulled the door closed after her. The air was quite close, but she could not risk being heard.

"Erik?" she called softly, "Erik, can you hear me? Please come out I have missed you so." She waited, listening for his voice, daring to hope he might push aside the mirror and come to her. Nothing. "Erik?" she called, a bit louder this time. "Oh, what has happened to you?" Christine could feel a lump rising in her throat, so many things could have happened in the past week. "Erik, please I have to know you are safe!" she was shouting to fight back the sobs now. "Erik I love you, show me I haven't lost you!" she could not take it any more; she collapsed on the couch consumed by great sobs. She didn't know how long she stayed there before a maid opened the door.

"Oh dear me!" shrieked the startled maid at the sight of Christine crying on the couch, "what ever is the matter Mademoiselle?"

"Nothing, it is nothing," said Christine, despite the fact that it was not nothing. She gently pushed her way past the maid and back upstairs to the dormitories.

* * *

 

Erik was making his way back to his lair, with a rather large box of food in his arms. For the past two weeks he had been gathering things for Christine. He had long ago stolen a bed from an unused set and collected a small wardrobe for her, but now that it seemed she might actually be staying with him, he realized he was not at all prepared. As he was walking he heard a faint noise, to him it almost sounded as if someone was calling his name. Ignoring the sound as his imagination, he continued towards his lair.

There it was again! This time he was certain, he began in the direction of the noise. As he drew closer he realized, where it was coming from. Christine's dressing room, she was looking for him! He was nearly there now, only one long hallway left, and he could hear her clearly now, though it was faint. "Erik I love you, show me I haven't lost you!" he put the heavy box down now, running down the long corridor. He could see her now through the one-way glass. She was crying now, he had to get to her! Reaching the mirror, he slowed down, gently pushing it aside so as not to make to much noise. He went to take a step through when the door at the other end of the room started to open. He cursed under his breath and quickly slid the mirror back into place. He stood waiting for the maid to leave, but Christine did not send her away, she left herself instead. He leaned against the mirror, sliding down until he was sitting. Warm tears began streaming down his face, catching and pooling inside his mask. How could he have let her worry like that? Now she feared he was hurt or worse that he had left her. Getting up, he made his way toward the secret entrance to the dormitories, to await the dinner bell.

* * *

Christine kept quiet all through dinner. When she had returned from the dressing room Meg had wanted to know what could have possibly happened while she was at the bathroom to make her cry, but she had not paid her any attention. The only person on her mind was Erik. She left dinner early and alone. Since she had not talked to anyone, she had consumed her food rather quickly. She entered the dormitories and headed to her bed. Suddenly the weight from her shoulders lifted, her heart was beating a million times a minute. There, on her pillow, was a deep red rose, tied in jet-black ribbon. He was alive! She was going to find him.

* * *

Erik was busying himself about his lair when he heard the sound of a rope sliding over stone and a scream that signaled one of his traps had been triggered. He crossed the lake quickly and began towards where he thought the snare was to see who he had caught.

Approaching the snare, he could not help but laugh, it was terribly funny. Having never caught a woman in his trap before he had not realized what such a snare would do. It was impossible to tell who it was, because her long skirts were now hanging inside-out over her head. He knew who it was though.

"Erik!" Christine shouted. "Erik is that you!" Now that someone was here, she began to find her predicament a bit amusing as well. She knew she must look funny like this.

Erik could only laugh.

"Erik, quit laughing at my bloomers and get me down from here!" she tried to sound scolding or commanding, but did not succeed as she too was now laughing. She reached up and pushed her skirts over her face, looking out at him. She could not help but smile broadly, she had never heard him laugh before. "Come on now Erik, the blood is all going to my head." This time she managed not to laugh.

Suddenly, it did not seem so funny to Erik either, he knew hanging like that for too long could cause damage and he hurried to her. He reached down and pulled her upper body up. She put her arm around his neck to hold herself up as he untied her foot. He tried to set her down on her feet, but she immediately collapsed back against him. She was terribly dizzy.

"Come now," he said, half carrying her down the passageway, "you should get some rest, we have much to talk about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my reviewers, I fear I must tell you that I will be starting school in two days and updates will be a bit slow after that. Bare with me, I am enjoying writing this and will update whenever homework permits!


	9. Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the lyrics used in this chapter, they are from the musical Westside Story, and I guess I'm saying the Phantom wrote them in this made up world? I just like how it goes with the story.

It took only a few moments for Christine to recover from her dizzy spell, but she didn't tell Erik, she was enjoying the embrace too much. When the small boat reached the opposite side of the lake, he picked her up, carrying her over to a small sofa.

He stepped back from her and surveyed her closely, a concerned look in his eyes. "Are you feeling better?" He asked. Christine looked at her lap. "I shouldn't have left you like that, it's dangerous." Now he looked away. This made Christine feel guilty that she had made him worry just so he would hold her. It seemed a silly, stupid thing to explain, so she tried to ease his concern.

"Erik, I am fine." He still did not look at her. No matter, she knew there were much better ways to get him to relax. She began humming, he looked at her face now. It was a sorrowful tune, despairingly slow, but then somehow filled with an undertone of wistful hope. He recognized it.

_Some day…  
Somewhere…_

_We'll find a new way of living,  
we'll find a way of forgiving_

_Somewhere…_

She got up off the couch to stand in front of him. He could see in her eyes the feeling, the belief in what she was saying, it was more than just a song right now

 _There's a place for us,_  
Somewhere a place for us.   
Peace and quiet and open air   
Wait for us   
Somewhere.

She stepped towards him, placing her arms around his waist. He did the same, pulling her up against him. She leaned back so that she was not singing directly in his ear, cocking her head slightly to the side and gazing into his eyes.

 _There's a time for us,_  
Some day there'll be a time for us,   
Time together with time to spare,   
Time to learn, time to care,   
Some day!   
Somewhere!

 _We'll find a new way of living;_  
We'll find there's a way of forgiving   
Somewhere…

_Somewhere…_

_Somewhere…_

Her voice grew stronger with every word, the hope in the song flowing over him, filling him until there was no room for anything else to be left.

 _There's a place for us,_  
A time and place for us.   
Hold my hand and we're halfway there.   
Hold my hand and I'll take you there   
Somehow!   
Some day!   
Somewhere…

As her voice trailed off in that final note, she placed her hand on the unmasked side of his face. She gently pulled his head down to hers with her thumb under his chin, kissing him softly. He pulled back from her momentarily, her kiss was still foreign to him and seemed to leave him a bit confused. She looked up at him expectantly. Unable to resist the look in her eyes, he leaned down kissing her passionately. A moment later he moved away from her lips again, but this time trailing kisses down her cheek to her neck.

She reached for his jacket and slid it off his shoulders; he obliged, moving his arms so that she could get it all the way off. Their lips met again and he began to undo the bodice of her dress. He could feel her hands softly caressing his chest, it was ecstasy. Never had he imagined her loving him like this. Then it hit him. His shirt and jacket were both discarded on the floor; did he even remember removing them? Christine was only wearing her corset and underskirt now, but she did not seem to mind; she was still kissing him. He felt her hands slide down his abs and begin fiddling with his belt. They shouldn't be doing this, and he knew it. Erik placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away from him, before she finished her task. Christine was confused. Didn't he want her?

"Christine," he looked at her sternly, "this isn't right, we aren't married. We aren't even engaged!" Christine found herself looking at her feet once again. He was right, but she didn't want to care. And since when was he so proper. "Now," he said, attempting to break the awkwardness, "you have not had a proper lesson in nearly a month. Get dressed, and we will sing some." Picking up his own clothes, he began to dress as well.

Christine sighed as she retied her overskirt and bodice. She had been enjoying herself. What did it matter to her if they were married or not? Although she planned to spend her life with him, it was likely they would never be officially married. So why wait for something that would never come?

Erik had lied. He wasn't really so concerned about her honor, because no one would ever know, he was simply nervous, and a bit startled by her forwardness. He was nearly twice her age, he was not expecting to be approached as such  He grumbled, attempting to get his cravat tied straight, but not succeeding without a mirror. Finally, he gave up and let his shirt hang open at the top without the cravat. Christine was already waiting by the organ for him. His thoughts shifted immediately to music. He could not wait to share his great operas with her.

* * *

 

They sang well into the night, all essence of time forgotten. Christine was beginning to yawn though, and they decided it would be best to retire.

Erik led her to a small room which was actually part of the main room, surrounded by a black lace curtain. "Anything you need, you will find here. There are some garments in that armoire." Christine began unlacing the front the front of her bodice and Erik turned to leave.

"Wait," she called after him.

"Christine, we have been over this, it is not hon-"

"Oh stop it," she gave him a pained expression, "I honestly can't untie my corset myself"

He scanned her face to see, trying to see if she told the truth. It was not likely he could fight off natural human instinct two times in a night. Finally deciding that it was, in fact, unlikely that she could untie that peculiar apparatus herself, he assisted her then left as quickly as possible.

Once he was gone, she went over to the armoire and opened it. The garments inside were splendid. Erik had obviously spent a great deal of money on these dresses. She was too tired to examine them all carefully, but there were at least 6. She pulled out a soft white night gown. It too was beautifully embellished with lace and a bit of beading, and looked as if it might be a bit uncomfortable. When she slipped out of her undergarments and into the nightgown, she was no longer worried. It was one of the most comfortable nightgowns she had even worn. The material was strange to her, yet so soft.  _What is it?_  She wondered for a moment, but then decided she was too tired to care. She snuffed the 5 candles then climbed into the beautiful swan bed that awaited her.

Outside the curtain Erik was putting out candles as well, humming softly to himself. When he was done, and this took a considerable amount of time, there were a great deal of candles to be delt with, he noticed that Christine had put out all her candles as well. Figuring she must be asleep, considering how tired she was before, he went in to check on her. Much to his surprise, she was laying in the bed, with her head propped up on her hand, watching him.

"I can't sleep," she said, "when the candles are lit this place seems so wonderful, but at night there is too much, too many unknowns in the darkness." This seemed truthful to him. Although he was accustomed to his lair, to visitors it was meant to seem menacing. "Stay with me, please." Christine looked up at him pleadingly; he could not resist those eyes. He took off his jacket and his shoes and climbed into the bed beside her. For a moment, Christine lay looking at him, but then gently pushed him onto his back. This startled him a bit. He was not used to letting anyone have power over him, but he tried to relax. He could trust Christine. She lay her head on his chest and draped one arm around his waist. He placed one arm protectively across her back and they both drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, stuff will take a bit longer throughout the school year, but I will not abandon you!
> 
> For those of you who seem to like Raoul coughsunny coughrexcough I have decided he will make another appearance. But he still doesn't win, so get over it. Nothing against him (notice that I refrain from calling him a slang name for narcissist), Erik is just cooler.


	10. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I do not own the lyrics to the song.

Erik was the first to wake the next morning. He looked up at the ceiling and wondered to himself why he was not in his own room. Trying to get up, he found his left arm pinned and quite numb. It wasn't until he looked over that he remembered the events of the night before. Christine was still asleep peacefully, her head now resting in the crook of his arm. He wanted to pull her back up onto his chest and sleep longer, but he knew that would not be wise.

Leaning over, he gently placed a kiss on her forehead. Christine's eyes fluttered open. Smiling sleepily, she looked up at him. It was impossible for Erik to resist smiling back at her, it was all too wonderful. "My dear," he whispered, "I am afraid you must return to your dormitory before someone begins to worry about you." Christine said noting, only propped herself up on one arm and kissed him on the lips. With that, she pulled herself out of the bed. Erik looked up at her, eyebrows raised, she was still just smiling.

She opened the armoire, how lovely it would be to wear one of those fine garments. However, it would probably raise suspicion. All those nosy girls would want to know where she had gotten the money for it. Sighing, she pulled her own plain dress out of armoire and laid it on the bed. Somehow, Erik had managed to slip out without her noticing. She slipped out of her nightgown and into her dress.

When she stepped out Erik was going about lighting the numerous candles throughout the room. Erik turned around and smiled at her. She was all a mess from sleep, but she was still beautiful to him. "We are not in such a hurry that you cannot freshen up a bit. There is a brush on the dressing table, and a will heat some water so that you can wash your face." Blushing at having forgotten her usual morning routine, Christine turned back to her "room."

A few minutes later Erik stuck his head through the curtains. Christine had brushed her hair and was now simply staring at her reflection, thinking it would seem. Her look was distant, but other than that, he could not tell what she was thinking or how she felt about it. He stepped forward, water basin in hand, so that he was standing behind her. Seeing his reflection in the mirror, she smiled and turned to look over her shoulder at him.

"I brought the water," he stated the obvious, setting the basin down on the dresser, "do tell me what you were thinking about  _mon ange_ "

"Nothing of consequence, I suppose my mind simply wandered off." Erik handed her a washcloth, and she dipped it into the basin. She wiped her forehead, closing her eyes as the warm water trickled down her face. When she opened them again, Erik had silently slipped from the room again. She was going to have to do something about that!

When she emerged, Erik held out his hand to her, "It's time to return now."

"Must I?" Christine whined like a small child who did not want to go home from a toy store. She knew she was teasing him, and what she said made no difference, but she really did want to stay. Erik did not reply, only pulled her close, and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Then he picked her up and set her in the boat. The ride across was quiet. Christine rested against Erik's legs, pulling his cloak over her head to keep the water dripping from the ceiling off her.

When they reached the entrance to the dormitory, Erik reached past Christine to push aside the stone that covered it, but she caught his arm. Placing his hand on the small of her back, she pulled him to her and kissed him passionately. When she pulled back he kissed her again, how he wanted to stay with her forever. After nearly five minutes standing there, kissing or merely gazing into each other's eyes, Erik pushed the stone slab aside, picked her up, and deposited her on the other side. Kissing her one last time on the forehead, he slid the slab back across the entryway.

Christine sighed contentedly as she collapsed onto her bed.

"So," came a suspicious voice from the darkness of the room. "That is where you went to after dinner!"

"Meg!" Christine exclaimed, "you scared me half to death!" Meg moved to sit on Christine's bed next to her.

"You know," Meg said with a teasing look on her face, "It will be awfully difficult to dispel rumors of you sleeping with the phantom if you do just that!" Christine opened her mouth to defend herself, but could not rightfully do so. She looked at her hands.

"Christine you didn't!" Meg was shouting again.

"Shhh," said Christine, "I didn't."  _But I wanted to._  Christine yawned, it was just before dawn, she could have gone back to sleep, but did not feel like undressing again. Meg got up off the bed, a bit of a concerned look on her face.

"Try not to do anything too stupid Christine."

"You know you sound just like your mother," Christine taunted, secretly feeling hurt that Meg was not being as supportive as she would have liked. Meg said nothing though and with that, Meg returned to her bed to sleep until the wake up bell. Christine was left to ponder in silence. Meg was right about one thing, her love for Erik would propose many problems. She was every bit willing to face them, but they could not deny their existence. Christine was certain that she would gladly spend the rest of her life in that cellar if it was with Erik, but that was no place to raise a child. And what about marriage? Certainly, they would have to be married if they wanted children, and she definitely did. She and Erik were going to have talk about this.

Just then, the bell rang, bringing moans from many still exhausted ballerinas. Not wanting to talk to anyone, Christine decided to arrive at breakfast early. The workers would still be eating as they woke before the performers, but Christine did not care. None of them would want to talk to her.

Christine barely ate any of her breakfast. She had been quite happy until Meg had brought her back to reality. She longed to run back to Erik, stay where he could protect her from all of this. Suddenly she was startled by a hand on her shoulder. It was Raoul. Without warning, she sprung up, knocking the table and sending many glasses and plates flying. "Raoul!"

"Christine, I was hoping to have a word with you," Christine was about to say something about Raoul having a word with Erik's sword, but he spoke first, "If you are done eating, would you please join me in my office?" She struggled to make up some excuse but could not. Grudgingly, she followed him out of the dinning hall and down the corridor to the patron's office.

"Please sit." Christine obliged, but Raoul did not sit. He was pacing, causing Christine to fidget nervously in her chair.

Finally, Christine could not take the silence any longer, "Raoul I have made up my mind, and there is nothing you can do to change it." This seemed to strike a nerve with him. Tears began to pour down his cheeks. Raoul had cried many times since her refusal, but never in front of anyone, now he felt terribly exposed.

"Why?" He sobbed, "What is it that I have done wrong? One day you were in love with me and the next not. What is it that that horrid monster can offer you that I cannot?"

"Stop!" Christine was both shouting and crying now. Angry that he was being so rude, sad that she had hurt him. Her anger came out first. "You will not call Erik names in my presence! I am sorry to have hurt you, but I was confused! I mistook a childhood fondness for love. Please, let us be."

The use of the word "us" struck Raoul hard. He was completely at a loss for words as she got up from her chair and left before he could say anything more. A moment later, he got up deciding to follow her, to try again.

* * *

 

Christine went upstairs to the dormitories to change into her practice clothes, still wiping tears from her eyes. There was no one in the dormitory, so she got dressed quickly. She was unsure of how long she had been in Raoul's office, so she wasn't sure if she was ahead of or behind the other ballerinas. Once she was dressed, she began to hurry towards the practice room.

_Some say love, it is a river  
that drowns the tender reed._

Christine heard Erik's voice resonating through the corridor. __  
Some say love, it is a razor  
that leaves your soul to bleed.

She began too look around, searching for him, to be with him again __  
Some say love, it is a hunger,  
an endless aching need.  
I say love, it is a flower,  
and you its only seed.

Suddenly she was swept up from behind as Erik emerged from the shadows, pulling her close in a tender embrace.

"Could not wait to see me?" Christine asked playfully.

"No, I could not, and then that Raoul, oh he makes me furious!" Erik was about to go off on a rant, but Christine silenced him with a forceful kiss to his lips. They would forget Raoul. Smiling, Erik kissed her back then began trailing light kisses down her neck and across her exposed collarbone. She began to laugh. "Oh Erik that tickles! Cut it out! Stop!" Then he stopped, but only to kiss her on the lips once more. Finally, she had to push him away. "I'm late for rehearsal!" Kissing him one last time on the cheek, she pulled from his embrace and ran down the hall towards the practice room.

Erik turned around to find none other than Raoul DeChagny, fifteen feet away, a gun pointed at Erik's heart. Erik shook his head, "Go ahead," he said dryly, "she'll never forgive you."

The gun clattered to the ground and Raoul stood staring there as Erik swept away into darkness


	11. A Note

Christine arrived breathless in the practice room, only to find it completely empty. She looked at the clock; 8:40 she was twenty minutes early.  _Dang! I left Erik for nothing. Now what am I supposed to do for twenty minutes?_  Sighing, she plopped down on the floor, in an extremely un-ladylike fashion. Sticking both legs out in front of her, she rested her elbows on the floor between her legs, and put her head in her hands.  _I could go back to look for Erik, but he's probably already gone. I wonder if I he will come for me tonight. It's obviously not a good idea for me to go down to him, but what if he gets caught coming for me? He probably shouldn't have come into the middle of the hall like that, anyone could have seen him! I wish he could come out in the day. We could stroll along through Paris, eat in cafés, and get married with plenty of friends and family there to see. I don't care about his face, why can't the rest of the world see how unimportant it is!"_ The door creaked open, and Meg stepped quietly into the room, toe shoes in hand. Christine turned to face her. A nervous smile crossed Meg's face. She wasn't sure what Christine was going to do. After all Christine had avoided her all morning, not to mention most of the night before.

Christine however, was not thinking the least bit about that now. "Rats! I forgot my toe shoes!" she jumped up and ran past Meg down the hall shouting, "How could I have been so stupid!"

By the time Christine returned, most of the class was already sitting on the floor tying their shoes or stretching. Christine hurriedly tied her own shoes, finishing just as Mme. Giry walked into the room.

"Girls," called Mme. Giry sharply, "your technique is slipping, so today we will be working on technique, not practicing our routines. Everyone at a barre!" Christine wanted to groan, but knew better than that. Any complaints would just mean more work, and with so little sleep, that was the last thing she needed. They spent nearly two hours at the barre doing exercises. Some were intentionally simple so that they could work to perfection, but others were nearly impossible, meant to challenge them and increase their speed. After that, they did adagio (that means done in the middle of the floor), repeating some of the same exercises for balance, and other things that could not be done at the barre. By the time they were done, everyone was gasping for breath and dripping with sweat. Christine knew she had not wanted to do exercises, but now she was glad they had. It had been a long time since she had full control of her body. Now every muscle was back to responding to her will without her having to even think about it. Despite being completely exhausted, that felt good. This was why she loved dancing, to be in control, to forget everything else and be in control.

"Come on Meg," she called brightly "lets get something to eat, I'm starved!" Meg was still a bit confused by Christine's emotional swings, but decided that if Christine wasn't mad at her, then she wouldn't ask why. They made their way down to the dining hall, gabbing about absolutely nothing of consequence. To Christine it almost seemed surreal that she could completely forget about all the things that troubled her and jabber uselessly, but she certainly wasn't unhappy about it. She could think of serious things later.

* * *

 

Christine and Meg spent the rest of the day with the rest of the ballet girls talking about the silly things that girls talk about. It wasn't until Christine was lying in her bed after all the candles had been put out that her thoughts drifted back to Erik. Now that she was alone, she could think of nothing but him. She wanted to go to him, but after what happened last night, she decided against it. Certainly there were other traps, perhaps some more dangerous than the one she had been caught in. It was possible that Erik had heard Meg and realized that someone had noticed Christine's absence, and he wanted to be more cautious. But they needed to talk, and Christine needed some way to tell him that.

Eventually, Christine decided to leave him a note. She would have to leave it within one of his passageways so it would not be discovered of course, but simply opening the door to put down a note could not cause any trouble. It took some time for Christine to find the writing table then a quill, paper, and ink in the darkness. Upon retrieving those items, Christine stumbled her way out into the hallway. Torches were lit about every ten feet so it was much easier for her to see now. When she reached her dressing room door, she pulled it open and went back to pull a torch from its fixture. Leaving the door open, she lit 3 candles with the torch, then placed it back in its fixture. She went back into the dressing room, closing the door this time.

Christine sat down at the dressing table with her supplies and began to write. She was very careful not to drip ink on the dressing table. It was such a fine piece of furniture, but there was nowhere else to put the paper. She could have done all of this in the dormitories, but she might have woken someone with the light. Then everyone would have wanted to know who she was writing to in the dead of night. More inquiring minds, no thank you, Meg was enough.

_Mon Cher Ange,_

_It seems that I will not be seeing you tonight, but I have some things that I need to discuss with you. They are not extremely urgent, but they are certainly important. I would like to speak to you as soon as possible and I miss you dearly! Do not endanger yourself to see me; I could not forgive myself if you were hurt._

_Amour,_

_Christine_

She looked down at the letter on the table. Of course, she had not brought anything to properly seal it with. Christine felt a little stupid that Erik always sent such elegant letters and she hadn't even gotten an envelope, but knew he wouldn't care. Folding the letter in half she wrote 'Erik' as neatly as she could on the outside. She walked over to the mirror and pulled it aside. When it was gone though, there was still a face there. It was of course Erik, but it took Christine one second too long to realize that.

She shrieked, throwing her arms up in the air and tossing the letter somewhere across the room.

"Good evening to you too my dear," said Erik.

"Erik, for god's sake, you scared me half to death! What are you doing here anyway?"

"I was on my way to the kitchen to get some food," he replied matter-of-factly, "the real question is, what are you doing here, and what are you writing?"

"I was writing you a letter for your information, but now I have no idea where it is, thanks to you"

"Very well, I will find it," he said, "but you should return to bed before your nosey friend finds you gone."

"Must I?" she was not whining this time, she was pleading. "I miss you every second I am not with you."

Erik knew that Christine couldn't go with him tonight, but her words moved him so. Being loved was still so new to him, so enthralling, he could not resist. He swept her up immediately, pressing his lips to hers in a deep, passionate kiss. Christine moaned with pleasure and put her arms around his neck, returning his kiss forcefully. It took every bit of effort for Erik's rational judgment to grab hold of him. "I love you," whispered Christine. "I love you too," he replied. Christine immediately leaned back in for another kiss, but he pressed his finger to her lips.

"We both know you have to go back," he said firmly, mostly because he still had to convince himself. "I will find your letter and you will see me again soon." Christine still looked up at him, her eyes begging him not to make her leave. Erik smiled, kissed her on the forehead, and then turned her towards the door. "I love you, get some rest." She dragged herself toward the door, pouting. Before leaving, she looked back just once more, hoping he would change his mind, but was met with only a determined look. She knew he was right; she just didn't want him to be.


	12. Reputation

It had been a week since Christine had gone to leave her note for Erik and she had not heard from him. Somehow, Christine was not worried. Erik had her letter; he was probably waiting until it would not be too suspicious for her to leave. The performance of Die Zauberflöte was in two weeks and they were now having afternoon full cast rehearsals on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. By the end of the next week, they would be rehearsing full cast for four hours every day except Sunday. Even in the hustle and bustle of the Opéra Populaire, the Lord's Day was always respected. Christine now knew her part so well it was impossible to tell that for the first two weeks of rehearsal she had been out with a bullet wound. Except, of course, for the scar. The doctor had assured her it would fade in time, but at the moment, it was a dime sized pink lump. She kept make-up on it, but only so it would not attract attention. She had had quite enough of that.

Christine and Meg were walking back from lunch to change shoes for the Saturday afternoon rehearsal, discussing a young man named Félix, whom Meg had met the night before.

"Oh Christine, he's ever so handsome," squealed Meg, "and so polite, and caring and –"

"Meg, you only met him last night!" Interrupted Christine.

"Well excuse me, 'Miss I'll-just-follow-that-voice-through-my-mirror-and-sleep-with-the-guy-on-the-other-side'!" teased Meg.

"Meg!" shouted Christine "Cut that out! I get enough of that from the rest of the Opera; I don't need it from you!"

"Now stop, you know I was only teasing, and settle down, people are starting to stare"

Christine froze and looked around. She was awfully tired of people staring at her, for any reason, except for performing, that is. They opened the door to the dormitory they shared with Nicole and Félicie. It was empty, except for a piece of parchment resting on Christine's pillow.

Christine rushed to pick it up. She had not been worried about Erik, but she had certainly wanted to hear from him. There was nothing written on the envelope, but the reverse side revealed an unmistakable red seal. She slid her finger under the seal to break it and anxiously pulled out the parchment.

_Chère Christine,_

_I am ready to talk with you about the subjects you brought up in your note. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I believe it will be the best day for you to leave without creating suspicion. First, make it clear to someone that you are going into the town, and then leave the opera house as if you mean to do just that. Go to the stables, I will be there waiting for you. You will return before the sun is set and no one will suspect a thing._

_Je t'amour_

Christine blushed slightly and closed the letter. Meg had been reading the letter over her shoulder, but Christine hoped she had not read the way Erik had signed it. It was the truth, and Christine returned his feelings, but she didn't want Meg to start teasing again. Eventually someone would hear them and start asking questions.

Fortunately, Meg had either not read the last line or decided not to say anything. Christine threw the note wordlessly into the fire, and they both began to tie on their pointe shoes. I was going to be a long night.

* * *

Erik got up early Sunday morning. He had hardly slept because he was so anxious to see Christine, but he knew he should be at the stables early so he was sure to get there before her. Dressing hurriedly, he made his way through the passages and into the stables. All but three of the stable hands were eating breakfast. The horses had already been groomed for the day, so the stable hands would be spending most of the day in the adjoining quarters or waiting for someone to arrive that might need their horse attended. Since it was Sunday, very few carriages would be arriving. Settling down behind a pile of hay to wait, Erik began to doze off.

"Erik?" he was dragged from his peaceful rest by the sound of Christine calling for him. A smile snuck its way across his face, he had missed her greatly. "Erik! Come out, I know you are in here, and I mean to have a word with you!" Erik groaned. In his groggy state he had assumed the only person who would come looking for him here was Christine. Grudgingly, he stood up. There was no reason for him to hide from Mme. Giry and if he did, she would only be angrier when she found him.

"Hush woman, do you mean to have the entire stable coming in here?" His voice was just above a whisper, but full of scorn. "How did you know I was here anyway?"

A sly smile crept across Mme. Giry's face. Erik scowled; he hated it when she smirked at him like that. She seemed to find great triumph in knowing something he did not. He liked to be in control and when someone else knew more about what was going on, it frustrated him. Mme. Giry knew this and used it to her advantage whenever possible.

"Come on now; stop teasing me, out with it!"

Mme. Giry continued to smirk, but took pity on him and answered his question. "Meg told me."

Erik's face twisted in frustration. She was playing with him, and he had no idea why. Straining not to yell he growled, "the entire story Madame, then tell me why you are here, and stop playing games with me!"

Amused by his frustration Mme. Giry choked back a small laugh, covering her mouth to hide her smile. "Very well, Meg was there when Christine received your letter and she told me Christine was coming to meet you here today."

"That's very nice Madame, but that does not explain why you are here. Did you simply wish to amuse yourself by teasing me?"

"No," said Mme. Giry sternly, "and, in fact, I am here to talk to you about something which does not amuse me in the least. Meg has told me that two times now she has awakened to find Christine not in her bed, and that does not count the time you took her after Hannibal."

"First off," said Erik, annoyed that Mme. Giry had been looked so much into his life, "Christine has only spent the night once since Hannibal, and second, what does it matter to you?"

"I was getting to that, be patient," snapped Mme. Giry. "It isn't right Erik, and you know it. It's a sin to be living together out of wedlock. Besides, you are ruining the poor girl's reputation! Do you hear what people are saying?"

Erik looked at his feet and kicked up a bit of dust. He always knew the gossip of the opera house, that was why he was trying so hard to keep people from noticing Christine missing. It made him feel guilty that she had to put up with it, but he could not part with her. Surely if it was causing her a lot of distress, she would have said something.

"Erik, look at me. Even Meg is starting to believe the rumors, this can't go on. You…"

The stable door slid open, causing Erik do dive once again behind the hay. Mme. Giry turned, trying to think of some possible excuse as to why she was standing in the middle of the stables. When she saw who was standing in the doorway though, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Erik come out, it's Christine," said Mme. Giry.

He stood up, brushing hay off his cloak and attempting to look slightly dignified. Christine was standing in the doorway, her face flushed red from the cold air. She wore her long red traveling cloak with her long brown curls pinned away from her face. Seeing Mme. Giry, a confused look crossed her face, but as soon as Erik stood up, it was replaced with a smile.

Christine guessed that he must have hidden behind that hay rather hurriedly. His mask was askew and one side of his cloak was covered in dust. Hay stuck out at random angles from his hair. He looked ridiculous. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Oh, it had been too long since she had last seen him. She walked over to him, completely forgetting that Mme. Giry was still standing there, and pressed her lips to his. Erik was a bit startled, but after a second wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her up against him. He had missed her so much.

Mme. Giry cleared her throat, startling them just enough that they stopped kissing, but Erik still held Christine tightly. Christine laughed and pulled a few strands of straw from his hair. Mme. Giry cleared her throat again. This time they both turned to face her.

"What do you want Mme. Giry?" inquired Christine, a bit annoyed at having been interrupted.

"Erik and I were just having a little discussion," she replied, making Erik scowl. More like she was scolding him. Christine arched one eyebrow, waiting for Mme. Giry to elaborate. "You are not to be spending the night with Erik again, Mlle. Daaé."

Christine was a bit taken aback by Mme. Giry's scolding. She knew from years of experience that when Mme. Giry used your last name, you listened, and you did not talk back. This was different though, this was  _her_  life, not an opera ballet.

"Mme. Giry," Christine's voice was slightly raised now, "what give you the notion that this is your place to interfere?"

"Christine," said Erik soothingly, "she's right, I am ruining your reputation, you shouldn't be spending the night with me." He looked at the floor again. He didn't want to lose her, but he couldn't let this continue. They would have to figure something out; they couldn't go on meeting each other once a week anyway.

Tears welled in Christine's eyes. Were they really going to give in to these mere rumors? He was worth much more to her than her 'reputation.' "You really want me to leave you?"

"No, never," Erik wrapped his arms around her, pulling her head to his chest as sobs racked her body. "We'll fix this," he said softly, tears coming to his eyes now, "you can still come with me today, and we'll come up with something, anything. But remember this: I will never leave you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that took a long time. I hope my reviewers aren't fed up with waiting. I have the rest of this mapped out to the end, it's just a matter of fitting it in between homework


	13. Music Of The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, the lyrics here are to a second version of Music of the Night and it was written by Andrew Lloyd Weber just like all the other songs. If you haven't ever heard it, I recommend you find some way to listen to it. I can't explain are the nifty little things they do like harmony and echoes and switching between people. It's much more complicated than the one in the musical because it's a duet. It's awesome.

Erik took Christine's hand and pushed aside the false wall in the stables. He turned to look at Mme. Giry, warning her that she should not dare follow. She returned his glare with one of equal anger, that read "don't you dare cause any more trouble." Stepping into passage, he pushed the wall closed behind him and Christine. _Don't cause any trouble_ he thought to himself.  _Ha! It is you who cause trouble Madame. If you hadn't intruded this would all been easily solved without upsetting Christine._

They came into his lair from the opposite side this time, without crossing the lake but instead pushing aside another fake wall and stepping out beside the curtain that surrounded the swan bed. Erik now took both of her hands in his looking into her eyes such that she could see the love in his eyes.

"Wait here," he said simply, almost startling her. Somehow, from the look in his eyes, she had been expecting something deeper. As he released her hands and disappeared through a red velvet curtain, she realized what he was doing. She barely had enough time to comprehend before he came striding back, a look of purpose in his eyes. Taking her hand, he slid gracefully down onto one knee, his cloak flowing out behind him. For a moment their eyes held on each other, both knowing what was happening but unable to move or speak.

He slipped from his pocket a small black leather box with a single red rose painted on the top. With a quick motion, he flicked back the top revealing the loveliest ring she had ever seen. A small heart-shaped ruby was set in the middle, surrounded by smaller diamonds. Christine gasped, it was so perfect. It was just perfect, not gaudy, but not too small or plain either.

"Christine, my angel, will you marry me?" She looked down at him, tears of joy forming in her eyes, and tried to answer, but she could not force words from her throat. Abandoning speech, she gently pulled up on his arms. He stood up, looking at her quizzically for a moment before she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Realizing her answer, Erik wrapped his arms around her kissing her passionately. She belonged to him now, and he had not forced himself on her either. She had loved him of her own accord.

Christine gently slid her hand around his neck to pull the mask off his face. He did not resist, he had no reason to be scared of her. Still holding his mask in her hand, she slid her arm back down his back and pulled her head back. Speech finally returning, to her she cried out, "Yes Erik! Oh yes!" Tears of joy continued to slide down her cheeks "There is nothing in the world I could ever want more!"

Smiling like Christine had never seen before, Erik took her hand again and slid the ring onto her finger. "Well then, my dear" he said, "come, we've much to discuss"

* * *

 

They sat together for about an hour, working out plans for the wedding, and for what would happen afterwards. When that was settled, Erik set a small table with some preserved meats and a loaf of bread, apologizing that he could not keep anything more suitable down here. Christine didn't care; she must have been the happiest person alive. For the rest of the afternoon they laughed their way through Christine's memories of getting into trouble with Meg when she was little. To his surprise, Erik was also able to recall a few fond memories of his own of silly things he and Mme. Giry had done in their youth as well. Few as they were it made Christine happy to hear that he had some pleasant memories of his childhood, despite having been abandoned.

The clock struck nine, startling them both from their distractions. The time had gone by so quickly. "Come," Erik said, getting up off the settee where they had been sitting, "I should be getting you back before people start to worry."

Christine stood up as well, taking up the pleading look that usually crossed her face when it was time for her to go. "Sing with me first, my angel" Erik smiled, trying to think of a song they could sing together. "Sing the one you sang to me the first night I was here," she said. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but started to sing anyway. She couldn't possibly have known the lyrics; he had been making them up on the spot. He had written the tune a long time ago, he knew that, but wasn't sure he even remembered the lyrics he had sung. When he had brought her down, he had just sung, letting the raw passion and love guide his words.

 _Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation_  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses, abandon their defenses.  
Helpless to resist the notes I write  
For I compose the music of the night.

Christine started to sing now, facing wrapping her arms around him, catching him off guard. __  
Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

He joined her now, their voices entwining joyously in perfect harmony.  
_Hearing is believing, music is deceiving  
Hard as lightening, soft as candle light_

She reached for his shirt undoing the buttons slowly. Erik looked down at her a mischievous look flicking across his face. She had stopped singing, he continued. _  
Dare you trust the music of the night?_

Their voices joined again, somehow knowing what they were singing without having ever agreed on the words.  
_Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth_  
And the truth isn't what you want to see  
In the dark it is easy to pretend  
that the truth is what it ought to be

Christine gently slid his cape and shirt back off his shoulders, letting her hands slide over his back. __  
Softly, deftly, music shall caress you  
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you

Erik took her by the hand leading her over to the black curtain surrounding her bed. He knew he ought to be resisting this, but they were going to be married soon, and no one would know, what was the difference? __  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind  
In this darkness which you know, you cannot fight...  
The darkness of the music of the night

He reached around her back, unhooking her dress and letting it fall around her ankles, leaving her in her slip and stockings __  
Close your eyes, start a journey to a strange new world  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before.  
Close your eyes and let music set you free  
Only then can you belong to me.

Erik Spun Christine around, pressing her back against him, her long curls tickling his bare shoulders. __  
Floating, falling, sweet intoxication  
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in  
To the power of the music that I write.  
The power of the music of the night

Christine turned back to face him and he swept her up in a deep kiss. Erik pulled the lever to raise the curtain and pressed her down onto the bed. Christine looked up at him, a sly smile creeping across her face. She could feel his weight pressing down on her, smell his scent rising around her. Yes, she was definitely the happiest person alive.

Erik sang softly, leaning in close to her ear. __  
You alone can make my song take flight...  
Help me make the music of the night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, not much longer to the end, I hope you enjoyed it. For those of you who read the last chapter and were like: "duh! They should get married" There you have it, Erik just did want what little surprise he had for her left after Mme. Giry interrupted to be ruined. At least that's how I justified saving the official decision until it was more romantic. Thanks to all my reviewers for waiting patiently!


	14. Morning

Mme. Giry paced the stables angrily. Christine had never returned from the night before and now people were starting to wonder and speculate. It was amazing what the chorus girls and stagehands could come up with. The real trouble with all these rumors was that the managers were starting to get fed up with it. For a brief time they had enjoyed the publicity that scandal caused, but after the incident in Don Juan, people were starting to think that it wasn't so safe to see operas at the Phantom's theater. With Carlotta back, they did not need Christine anymore. She was just like any other ballerina, being out for so long with her injured arm she had probably forfeited all chance at being Prima next year, and they could easily get rid of her and save themselves the trouble.

The most frustrating thing for her was that she had told them that Christine had to be back by nightfall and Erik had given his word that she would. Yet, here she was at 8 o'clock the next morning and Christine was not here. Mme. Giry had already missed breakfast, and rehearsal started in two hours. If Christine missed rehearsal and the managers found out, she would be fired for sure. In fact, if Mme. Giry hadn't known that Christine had nowhere to go, she might have fired her herself.

* * *

 

Christine opened her eyes slowly. She could feel the chill of the room on her face, but she was warm in Erik's embrace. It was dark, Christine smiled, she didn't have to get up yet. Right now, she could have stayed here forever. So warm, so comfortable, so safe in his arms. Carefully, trying not to wake him, she rolled over to look at him. A slight smile rested on his lips, for once he was at peace. Propping her head up on her hand, she admired his bare chest as it slowly rose and fell with his breathing.

He opened his eyes, a smile brimming almost to his ears when he found Christine beside him. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss gently on her forehead, then propped himself up as well.

Christine stared lovingly into his golden eyes. The silence of their love was almost as beautiful as their music. No words were needed, they could understand each other without them, and it was astounding.

The clock sounded startling them from their meditation. One, two, three, four, five, Christine's eyes grew wider with each stroke. Six, seven, eight, what a fool she was of course it was dark, they were underground.

"Madame Giry is going to kill me!" she cried, launching herself out of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so there's a brand new chapter for you. It's actually been sitting on my computer for nearly a year, I guess I never got around to putting it up. I promise though, I'll finish this soon


	15. This Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be changing the name of this story once it is complete! The summary will be the same as it is currently, please note this if you wish to read the final chapter. I haven't decided what the new title will be or else I would tell you. However, the current title doesn't fit past the fifth chapter or so. This is what happens when you write without an outline on paper.
> 
> 2016 update: What was the original title to this story? I have literally no idea. Lord knows what 14-year old me was thinking.

Christine had never gotten dressed so fast in her life, and it would have been faster had she not accidentally done up the hook and eyes of her dress crookedly the first time. By eight, she had missed breakfast, but not rehearsal, she now she was running through the passageways while attempting to eat an apple. She and Erik had hatched a story for the curious minds at the OpИra Populaire. She intended to tell them that while shopping she had gotten too far from the opera house and decide that she could not make it back by nightfall, so she had spent the night at an inn. What to tell Mme Giry was a whole other story. Hopefully, arriving just in time for rehearsal would mean that Mme. Giry would not get the opportunity to ask her until afterwards, and Christine could invent a story in the interval.

When she arrived at the door, she threw it open without hesitation and ran through at full speed, her mind on getting to rehearsal on time. Then suddenly she felt her leg strike hay and she went tumbling head first over a bale of hay that had most certainly no been there last night. Christine lay there on her back until she heard an odd sort of muffled snort. She sat up to find Mme Giry standing just off to her left, her hand covering her mouth and her face contorted in an obvious attempt to conceal her amusement.

Christine unceremoniously scrambled to her feet and attempted to brush herself off. Meanwhile Mme Giry's amused look had hardened to a frown. Christine opened her mouth to lie, but then realized it was time for the truth. Well, perhaps not the  _entire_ truth about last night, but after all, Mme Giry had practically raised her. She at least deserved an invitation to the wedding.

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Christine stood in the antechamber of a small chapel on the outskirts of Paris. She had given her resignation to the managers following the performances of the Die Zauberflöte. Of course, there had been a great deal of fuss about it, and everyone had their theories, but she had expected that, as she had not given them a reason for her departure. However, none of this mattered to her now, because she was finally getting married. Just the thought made her smile. She examined her reflection in the mirror. Her gown was, in a word, perfect. Intricate flowered lace draped the entire silk dress, which was embellished with pearls. Crystals traced the neckline and circled her arms at the top of perfectly fitted off-the-shoulder sleeves, made of the same lace that blanketed the dress.

"You do look beautiful," breathed Meg, having caught Christine staring in the mirror. "I just wish you would tell me where you are going," Meg walked around in front of Christine, staring her in the eyes with the most serious look that Christine had ever known Meg to possess. "I just want to know that you are safe."Christine looked over her shoulder to Mme Giry, who had just finished setting her curls in place. Mme Giry knew all their plans; in fact, she had helped make some of their arrangements. The older woman nodded, and Christine turned back to Meg.

"Can you keep a secret?" Christine asked, more to make sure Meg knew it was a secret than to check Meg's loyalty.

"I can keep  _this_  secret," replied Meg firmly.

Christine took a deep breath and began, "We sold almost everything that Erik had in the basements, some of it to the managers themselves, who were certain that in good time, it would fetch an excellent price at an auction. With that money and his savings, we were able to buy a farm in Provence and hire servants, with a good deal left over for furniture, stores, and such. For as long as the managers continue to pay it, you mother will collect his salary, and after taking a sizable portion for the two of you, pass it along to us. With that and the farm to sustain us, we will do just fine. You don't have to worry about me, okay?" Christine tried to look reassuring as she waited for Meg's response.

"There is just one problem," said Meg, Christine looked at her questioningly. "I'm going to miss you terribly!" With that, Meg broke into sobs and threw her arms around Christine's neck. Christine tried to console her, but found herself crying as well. Mme Giry came to their sides.

"There, there girls, you must stop this, you are going to ruin your make up." The two girls separated and turned to Mme Giry, carefully wiping under their eyes. "This isn't goodbye forever, you can write to each other, and we will most certainly come to visit." The two girls nodded and smiled at each other. "Now," Mme. Giry paused dramatically, "It is time."

xXx

The ceremony was gorgeous, the church adorned in white roses, and a priest with a deep, calming voice who had probably been bribed or otherwise coerced into performing the ceremony between two such known persons. Christine however, hardly noticed what was going on and drifted through the ceremony in the most ecstatic daze. Her mind focused only on Erik's hand in hers, and the brilliance of the future ahead of her. Erik said 'I do', and then it was her turn, and the two of them were looking so deeply into each other's eyes one could almost hear the other thinking.

The priest spoke again, "I now pronounce you man and wife," he turned his head towards Erik slightly, "You may now kiss the bride." As if he had been waiting his whole life for this moment, and truthfully, both of them felt that they had, Erik leaned in ever so slowly, and kissed her gently on the lips.


	16. Epilogue: Two years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, one day short of two years later, I've finally finished my first fic. This was the first fic I ever started and the only fic that was not a one-shot I have ever finished. Thank you to all my friends who first got me started writing this, and to my readers and reviewers who encouraged me to start writing again the many times I stopped. All final reviews are greatly apreciated and constructive for me, so please take the time. Without further ado, the finale of this journey.

Meg shifted uncomfortably in her carriage seat next to her fiancée Félix. It had been nearly five months since she last saw Christine, and the ride to Provence was  _painfully_  long. At first, she had enjoyed the ride. Félix was engaging and worldly, and even her mother enjoyed his company; however, after nearly a week with the same three people in the same black carriage, there was really nothing left for them to talk about without new subject matter.

"What's the matter, dear?" Félix asked, having noticed her discomfort.

Meg forced a smile and said, "Just anxious to see her again." This was true, but Meg was also nervous for Félix to meet them both, especially Erik. Since they hadn't started dating until after Christine had left, Félix new nothing of the entire fiasco surrounding their romance, and she had told Félix and abridged story that included Erik's, less than perfect facial features. Félix seemed compassionate enough, but he might still be taken aback and offend someone. Also even Christine had to agree that Erik could be rash from time to time, but she wanted Félix to like the both of them, because they had become her closest friends in the past two years. She felt she had long outgrown the follies of the ballet girls, and was anxious to be wed, and away from the opera house. She and Félix were going to have the most wonderful life in Lyon, and they would be much closer to Christine. Only three more months…

Meg looked out the window, and allowed her thoughts to wander, gradually feeling calmer. Her surroundings were beginning to feel very familiar, and she realized they were getting close. As they came over what Meg knew to be the final hill, her breath caught in her throat. The entire countryside was beautiful, but today the farm was stunning. The sun was setting behind them as they came down the hill to where the farm nestled in the valley. The lavender colored the fields the softest purple and the evening sun glinted off the water collected on the leaves of the orchard from the day's rains. Christine had to be the luckiest woman alive.

As they came up to the door, Meg could hear a dog barking, which was new. She could see the housekeeper, Maude, poke her head through the curtains, and then shout back towards the interior of the house. Erik was first to emerge at the door, which was different, but Meg thought nothing of it. Her eyes were on Félix's face, gauging his reaction to Erik. He seemed to be holding his face firm to make sure he would not react. Erik opened the carriage door and held his arm out to help her mother down, and then Félix climbed out and helped her down. When she looked back up at the door, Christine was standing there, her empire waist peach dress flowing over her obviously bulging belly. At this sight, Meg hauled up her skirts and ran over to her friend.

For a moment, she was too ecstatic for words and the two women merely grinned at each other. This gave the rest of the party time to catch up, and soon everyone was smiling broadly; except for Félix, who hardly knew Christine, but managed a small smile to conform to the atmosphere. Mme Giry was the one who finally spoke.

"How long until it's due?" she asked.

"About four months," replied Christine, rather excitedly.

"And you waited this long to tell us!" Meg raised her voice in a rather accusatory manner.

"Well, we knew just two weeks after you were here last. So, we waited to tell you until we were more certain nothing would go wrong, and by that time you had already written to tell us about your visit, and I figured it would be much more  _fun_  to tell you in person." Meg felt an odd mix of cross and excited, and couldn't form a reply, so she hugged Christine instead.

Mme Giry hugged her as well, and Félix was shaking Erik's hand in congratulations when Maude called out the door, "Dinner is served!"

"Come," said Erik, "we've a great deal of catching up to do."


End file.
